


Forged in Fire, Quenched in Ice

by GuiltyRed



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyRed/pseuds/GuiltyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort sees fit to lay a lesson home before meeting with the Death Eaters. (Set just before the opening of book 7.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forged in Fire, Quenched in Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Forged in Fire, Quenched in Ice  
> Author: GuiltyRed  
> Rating: NC17  
> Warnings: Dubcon, mindfuckery  
> Word count: 1075  
> Summary: Voldemort sees fit to lay a lesson home before meeting with the Death Eaters. (Set just before the opening of book 7.)  
> Prompt: Voldemort/Lucius: rough sex  
> A/N: Read this, then go re-read chapter one of Deathly Hallows.

“Your son does nice work.”

Lucius flinched ever so slightly; he covered the reaction by turning sharply in the direction of the chill compliment. “I’m glad you are pleased, My Lord.”

Above the long table, an unconscious body floated gracelessly in the air. Voldemort gestured with his wand and set the suspended centerpiece to spinning. “He does not, however, seem to enjoy his craft.” Voldemort’s voice had dropped to a low hiss, an accusing sound that sent an arrow of ice through the elder Malfoy’s heart.

Words jumbled together in Lucius’ throat, none of them safe to give voice to. One simply did not ask the Dark Lord ‘whatever do you mean?’ when someone’s life may well be on the line. Instead, he cleared his throat and swallowed the questions, then said, “He is still quite young, My Lord. He will learn to serve as you teach him, of course.”

“Of course…” Narrow red eyes studied Lucius as a smile played across the snakelike mouth. “Perhaps you could help me teach him, Lucius. Some lessons are best kept within the family.”

Lucius did not like the sound of that at all. “My Lord?”

Voldemort glided toward him, still wearing that death’s head smirk. “Your family seems to have difficulty following orders, Mister Malfoy.” His use of the honorific only suggested that Lucius was set to hang for any indiscretion from his son or wife – or, gods forbid, his in-laws. Cruel humor lit his eyes from within as he fingered the elegant clasps on Lucius’ robes. “When power no longer motivates, perhaps it is time to try…other means of persuasion. What do you think, Lucius? Would your son respond to this?”

Lucius gasped as cold, talon-like fingers gripped him between the legs and squeezed. Again he swallowed damning words, forced his mind to still lest the outrage slip out. Better that he be the target of such things than his son, though heaven help them if Voldemort knew this.

A dry chuckle like scales sliding over stone told him that his master already knew quite well. “How far will you go to protect him? Far enough that he no longer values your protection, perhaps?”

He tried not to react as Voldemort stripped away his clothes, leaving him naked in his own dining hall. Any minute now, the other Death Eaters would arrive, and with them his wife and son. Lucius shivered with dread and humiliation, but kept his face impassive. With extreme effort, he forced a slight smile and murmured, “My Lord, this is not about Draco, it is about my service to you, and you know that I will accommodate your every wish.”

“Ah, but what if I wish your son?”

Lucius nodded graciously and replied, “That, My Lord, would be between you and him, for he is old enough to make such alliances himself without my interference.”

Voldemort strode around his prey, surveying the man from every angle. He gripped Lucius’ hips and turned him to face the large, antique mirror. “If you close your eyes,” Voldemort whispered, “I will do this to Draco next, and you will watch everything.”

Lucius bit down on the inside of his cheek as he felt himself violated. With supreme effort, he kept his eyes open and trained on the reflection in the mirror. His body struggled against the intrusion, nearly overwhelmed by a sudden revulsion at the chill flesh within him.

As a shudder ran through him, Lucius made eye contact with himself in the mirror. _I will not fight this. I’m no stranger to this act, though I was young and foolish then. If I just…_ He reached down and took himself in hand.

His eyes fluttered nearly shut before he caught himself, but behind him Voldemort only laughed. “Fair enough,” the Dark Lord murmured amiably, “should you falter through pleasure, the penalty will be less severe.”

Lucius focused his attention on his own reflection, his own touch. _If I seem overcome by delight, perhaps he will finish sooner and leave me be…_ His hand stroked deliberately, not seeming rushed.

Behind him, Voldemort grunted, his body remembering the joy of the rut. His own eyes narrowed, the pupils dilated so that they almost seemed human.

Lucius tried not to think of how likely they were to be discovered. He couldn’t afford distractions at this point. _Close, thank mercy I’m close. Maybe, when my humiliation is complete, he will be satisfied and my son will be safe._

“Look at me,” Voldemort hissed, drawing his attention to the reflection behind. The Dark Lord grinned viciously, his illusion grinning back at them both: a slender youth with a fair, rather pointy countenance crowned with white-blond hair.

Lucius gave a little lost cry as he came, spurting desperately over his own hand and fouling the surface of the mirror. Something inside seemed to tear loose and threaten to unravel, taking his sanity with it; he locked eyes with his own reflection and tried to tell it to calm down before all was undone.

* * *

But the humiliation didn’t end there.

During the meeting of the Death Eaters, Lucius kept a watchful non-vigil over his son, ignoring him as much as possible in the hopes that this would render the youth invisible to crueler eyes. He maintained a grim dignity as he and his wife were taunted in front of Draco, though he felt his calm slipping with every jeer.

And then: “Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore.”

Lucius had no coherent thought. “My Lord?”

Voldemort’s smile seemed private and threatening, a reminder that what went before was only the beginning. “Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand.”

“I…” Lucius glanced sideways to his wife.

Narcissa had borne her share of degradation at the whim of the Dark Lord. She had endured him taking over her home. She had looked away as he had tormented Lucius for his failures.

At her husband’s side, Narcissa had feared for the life of their only child at the hands of a madman.

Warm, steady fingers closed around Lucius’ wrist in a whisper of tender strength. When she met her husband’s gaze, her eyes spoke in the one language that Voldemort would never know. _I love you, my husband. Wand or no wand, we will protect our family together._

His own eyes now guarding secret strength, Lucius drew his wand and handed it up the table to his master.


End file.
